


A Nightingale Sang in Rockefeller Square

by LittleMissPixieStix



Category: Team Fortress 2
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-02-28
Updated: 2016-02-28
Packaged: 2018-05-23 14:54:31
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,947
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6119970
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LittleMissPixieStix/pseuds/LittleMissPixieStix
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>He shouldn’t be here.  Sniper - no, Mick, he was just Mick now - felt out of place in the city.  The tall buildings and bright lights made him feel like he was standing on a stage along with every person walking by him in the busy streets.</p><p>Why was he here?  That was a hard question to answer.  </p><p>He was here for a man, here to try to find a life after the war, but he was also here to get away.  There had been a nagging feeling of being an outsider wherever he was, he couldn’t feel comfortable anywhere he went.</p>
            </blockquote>





	A Nightingale Sang in Rockefeller Square

**Author's Note:**

> You can find this fic on tumblr here: http://littlemissfemscout.tumblr.com/post/140091722102/a-nightingale-sang-in-rockefeller-square  
> Likes and reblogs are appreciated, but by no means required! =)

He shouldn’t be here.  Sniper - no, Mick, he was just Mick now - felt out of place in the city.  The tall buildings and bright lights made him feel like he was standing on a stage along with every person walking by him in the busy streets.  As he stood on the corner, looking up at the skyscrapers around him, people bumped into him, pushed him around, but he didn’t care.

Snow fell around him, further causing the man to feel alienated.  If anything, it made him glad he had some sort of coat, even if it was just a black bomber’s jacket.  At least the scarf was helping to keep him warm.

Why was he here?  That was a hard question to answer.  

He was here for a man, here to try to find a life after the war, but he was also here to get away.  There had been a nagging feeling of being an outsider wherever he was, he couldn’t feel comfortable anywhere he went.  

In Australian cities, he was a twig, in the countryside, he was too bare in the face.  Around small communities, he felt like the other people could sense that he was a former killer, even if on his last job all of his targets had respawned back to life by the end of the day.  In the states,he was only looked at as an outsider when he spoke, which was far easier to deal with.

He could go for days without talking, and that was around people that he knew.  Here, with a sea of stern faces passing by from both sides, he didn’t feel the least bit compelled to open his mouth.

Which, of course, made it hard for him to ask for directions.

It shouldn’t be that hard to figure out where he was going.  All he needed to do was find a large tree in the middle of a square.  He had gotten a letter telling him that the view of the tree was incredible, that it was wished that he could see it, and he just hoped that he hadn’t missed the thing being up.  That would make this whole thing very difficult.

Part of the reason that Sniper - no, wait, Mick.  He was Mick once again - was here was because he was lonely.  His parents had passed away and he had no one back in the old country who he even liked that much.  The queen, God bless her, was tolerable, but that was probably only because she was a kangaroo.

He had come here to find him, to stop that lonely feeling.  He had traveled across the world, to a city that he didn’t know, to find a tree, where he would hopefully find the other man.

God, when he thought about it that way, it seemed like he was batshit bonkers.

 He probably was.  Working in the desert for years, picking off blokes day after day for a living would probably drive anyone a bit bonkers.  He was sure the other man had gotten a bit more enjoyment out of it, taking advantage of the free reign that he had.  In a way, Mick wished that he could have been more of a free-spirit himself.

Off course, in a way, jetting across the world on a whim probably face-planted him solidly into the free-spirit camp.

Now he had to find the tree.  The sooner he found it, the sooner he could wait.  As _exciting_ as that sounded, he really was in a hurry.  The earlier he arrived, the longer he could lay in wait, and the bigger chance he had of catching the other man.  

Mick was good at waiting, but only when he knew he was going to get a shot.  He didn’t know if he was going to get the chance, but if he didn’t hurry he definitely wasn’t going to get one.

He kept walking, pushing, shoving, to head for the brighter part of the city.  It was hard to tell when he surrounded by lights, but there was definitely a barely superior glow coming from up ahead.  He needed to go there.

As he walked, he adapted the look of a city-slicker, with his hands stuffed down into his pockets, shoulders squared and face neutral.  There was no more sight-seeing to be had, he was on a mission. 

The tree was humongous, and absolutely covered in lights.  Covered enough that it was hard to see the tree underneath.  Was a beautiful sight, anyway.  No wonder it was worth writing about.

He walked the square around the tree, looking at people’s fronts, backs and sides, seeing if any of them were someone that he recognized.  

Not him, not him, not him.  Where was the damn bloke?  It was Christmas eve, the sap should be here, mooning over the tree and making a wish on a star or something.

Forget should be here, he had to be.  If he wasn’t then this whole trip was for nothing, it was all waste.  He had to find him.  He had to be here.

One hour turned into two, and still he waited.  The only time he left the square were to go buy a cup of coffee or to go empty his bladder.  Aside from the few minutes he was gone, he paced around the tree, like a hawk searching for his prey.

And as two hours turned into four, he became less like a hawk and more like a lost dog, searching for his owner.

It hadn’t occurred to him that this wouldn’t work.  There hadn’t been a thought in his head saying that he would fail.  He was a professional, he didn’t fail, not normally.  This was…

It was painful, that’s what it was.  

That feeling that he was alone in the world came rushing back tenfold.  As the sea of people rushed by him, he felt alone.  Looking up into the vortex of falling snow, up into the black night, he had never felt more alone.

His shoulders sagged as the snow flakes melted on his face.  He wanted to fall to his knees and scream, cry out, beg for help, for someone to be there for him.  He didn’t, though.  He was a professional after all.

As he looked back down to Earth, back to this lonely world he lived in, he saw a man with dark hair walking on the other side of the road, walking away from the Aussie.

It was him.  It had to be.

Mick took off after him, not caring as cars slammed on their brakes and squealed to a stop around him.  He had a man to catch.

“Arthur!” He called out, shoulder banging against other people as he ran after the other man, “Arthur, hold up!”  


With his quick pace, he easily caught up to the other man, and laid a hand on his shoulder.  The other man whipped around and the smile on Mick’s face fell.

It wasn’t him.

This man wasn’t him.

He had been wrong about everything once again.

“Sorry, sorry, thought you were someone else,” Mick said quickly, ripping his hand off of the other’s shoulder, “Apologies, mate.”  


When he spoke, his deep, foreign voice caught others attention.  

Goddammit, he shouldn’t have done that.  He shouldn’t have done any of this.  He wanted out, he wanted away, he wanted to run back to Australia.  It wasn’t his favorite place to be, but at least he felt safer there than he did in this country.

He’d still be lonely, he’d still be the odd one out, but at least he’d different in a place that he _knew_. 

He already had plenty of attention on him, no one was going to care, or stop him, if he ran.   Blood pounded in his ears, muting the world around him until he could hear nothing but his heart hammering in his chest. He turned to run, not caring where he ended up,but only took a few sprinting steps before he collided head-on with someone.

“Sorry, _sorry,”_ He said again, struggling for his footing on the icy sidewalk.  He speeding departure was halted when he heard laughter coming from underneath him.  Very familiar laughter.  


“Fancy running into you here,” The team’s former Medic, Arthur, said looked up at Mick, his dark hair, glasses frames, and coat letting his gorgeous barely-tan skin and white smile stand out, “You are as graceful as ever, I see.”  


“Bloody hell, mate, I’ve wanted to see you so bad,” He said, helping the other man sit up.  


“You nearly missed me,” Arthur said, “I only saw you because you went racing off screaming like the fool you are.  Then I had to go running after you.”

“Glad ya’ did,” Mick said with a smile, focused only on the man in front of him.

The two of them slowly stood up,  but as soon as they were on their feet, Arthur grabbed at Mick’s hands.

"Is that your coat, Mick?" Arthur asked, "That's hardly suitable for the weather." 

"Only coat I had," Mick replied simply. 

“...Gloves.  Where are your gloves?” The German said.  


“Right here. On my hands. Didja' think they were somewhere else?”  


“I meant ones that covered your fingers, Mick, not these,” Arthur said, pulling off his own pair, “Wear these.  Warm your fingers up.  Do it.”

“Doctor’s orders?”  


“If that’s what will make you do it, yes,” Arthur said as he handed his gloves over, fingers brushing against Mick’s hand, “You feel frozen.  How long have you been out here.”  


“Long enough to see you.”  


“As much as I appreciate the sentiment, I would appreciate you thawing out more,” Arthur said, pulling Mick’s hand close enough to his mouth that he could breath some hot air over the poor fingers, “Are you staying somewhere nearby?”  


“Does forty blocks count as close?” Mick asked, “Didn’t feel like it when I was walking.”

“You walked?”  


“Couldn’t get a taxi,” Mick said with a shrug.  


“We’re going to my place.  Now.” Arthur said with an affectionate, and exasperated, sigh, “I’ve got an apartment closer than your place.  We’ll pick up your bags tomorrow.”  


“You asking me ta’ stay with you?” Mick asked, “Tellin’ me I can stay?”  


“Of course you can stay,” Arthur said, rubbing Mick’s hand to try help warm it up, “You will, won’t you?”  


“Of course I will.” Mick said, and he turned to start following Arthur down the road, “…Art?”  


“Say that again and the cold won’t be the only threat to your fingers, Mickey,” Arthur said, before asking, “What are you talking about?”  


“Forgot ta’ greet ya’ all nice and proper,” Mick said.  


“Meaning?”  


Mick pulled the other man into a hug, holding him tightly for a minute.  Thankfully, Arthur hugged him back, and the of them held on tight to each other, making up for lost time, as the world seemed to slow around them.  If anything Mick was just glad that Arthur hugged him back; it would have been awkward to be shoved away with one of his rare displays of affection.

He just wanted to hold the other man, to confirm that he was there and that he wasn’t going to lose him again.  That’s all he wanted.

“Came a long way to see you again, mate,” He said, whispering it into the other man’s ear, “Hello.”  


Forget the crowded streets, the bright lights, the tall buildings, and the snow slowly falling on them.  Forget all of that, he didn’t give a koala’s arse about any of it.  Why should he?  


He finally felt like he was somewhere he belonged.  

He was finally somewhere he wanted to call home.

**Author's Note:**

> Is this an AU? Is it not? Are all of these details accurate at all in any way?
> 
> We'll neeeeever know. 
> 
> And if you do know; shhhh. Cranked this out for fun, so research was a minimum, and I make no guarantees based on authenticity for this fic.
> 
> Loosely inspired by the song "Hello" by Karmin, title based on the song "A Nightingale Sang in Berkeley Square". Manhattan Transfers' version is my personal favorite.
> 
> Kinda want to do more with these two, tbh, but we'll just have to see. Thanks for reading! =)
> 
> Thanks for reading! =)


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